


Will You Stay for Breakfast?

by the_genderman



Series: Semi-Canon Freebird-Verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkward Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam Wilson, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Demisexual Steve Rogers, Except that he hasn't figured it out yet, First Time, Hence why things are a little awkward, M/M, Steve gets nervous, Top Steve Rogers, or that was the plan, things get a little awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: How does Steve know where Sam lives? Because they went on a date and ended up back at Sam's place.Why does Sam say "I made breakfast. If you eat that kind of thing" and gives Steve A Look (TM) and then Steve gives a little guilty head bob? Because things got a little awkward and Steve felt like he didn't live up to Sam's expectations so he skipped out on breakfast.Yes, I realize I’m expanding the movie timeline slightly, but I had to in order to work in Steve spending the night at Sam’s rather than just going directly from the VA visit to finding Fury in his apartment that same night.This work was originally posted on Tumblr in March 2017, and is itself a re-write from a November 2016 attempt. The original was kind of bad. But hey, practice, practice, practice.





	Will You Stay for Breakfast?

Sam’s automatic porch light clicked on as they climbed the steps to his duplex. Sam had offered coffee, and Steve had accepted. And if the (shy and somewhat hesitant, but persistent) footsie under the table at dinner was any indication, then the offer of coffee came with the unspoken '… with breakfast.' 

Sam fumbled for his keys. Steve scanned his surroundings a little nervously.

“What’re you looking at?” Sam asked.

“Erm,” Steve said. “Just looking. In general. I mean, at this time of night, there’s not too many reasons to be bringing a guy home, and most of them aren’t exactly platonic.”

“Don’t worry, my neighbors are used to me bringing the occasional guy home. They don’t care,” Sam said.

“I’m not…” Steve said. “Not out. Um.”

“Alright, that’s ok. I won’t say anything to anyone if you don’t want,” Sam said, finally slotting the key into the lock (he could be excused a little bit of nerves, it’s not like _everyone_ got to spend the night with Captain America– _Steve_. He shouldn’t keep calling him Captain America all night, he’s got a name).

Once inside, Sam took Steve’s jacket and hung it in the closet. Steve looked politely around the front room.

“You can keep looking if you want, don’t let me rush you, but the bedroom’s this way,” Sam said, gesturing down the hall.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said a little distractedly. He was looking at Sam again. “Could I, um, kiss you first?”

“Absolutely,” Sam responded enthusiastically. He stepped closer to Steve.

Sam wouldn’t describe the kiss as ‘ _bad_ ,’ per se, but more ‘out of practice.’ His face must have let something slip because Steve frowned a little, wrinkling his brows.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked.

“No, no, nothing wrong,” Sam replied. “But, I think you might be a little out of practice.”

“Out of practice? Kissing doesn’t need practice,” Steve asserted.

“Yes it does, and if you’ll stop arguing with me, I can help you with that. Sound good?”

“Alright,” Steve said, nodding his head a little.

Sam led the way to the bedroom.

\---------

“May I?” Steve asked, reaching a hand up to the buttons of Sam’s shirt.

“Be my guest,” Sam replied, dropping his arms from Steve’s shoulders and allowing him to unbutton his shirt. 

Steve’s mouth made a silent ‘Wow’ as he let Sam’s shirt fall to the floor.

“Like what you see?” Sam asked confidently.

Steve nodded.

“Good. Now that shirt of yours doesn’t leave _much_ to the imagination, but it leaves more than I’d like. So how about you take if off and show me what _you_ ’ve got?” Sam said.

Steve nodded again and pulled his shirt over his head. He then proceeded to fold the shirt and set it on the top of Sam’s dresser. He struck a quick pose for Sam and moved on to his belt and pants, placing them in a neat little pile on top of his shirt. When he finished and turned back, Sam was already sitting on the bed, naked and waiting for Steve to finish undressing. Hooking a finger into the waistband of his underwear, Steve slowly and deliberately began to pull them down.

“While I appreciate the view, you’re killing me, Steve,” Sam said. “I’m gonna need you to get over here.”

“I’m sorry if this is a little late notice, things moved a little faster than I expected (no, no, not a bad thing, just… fast), but I haven’t actually done this before. You might have to guide me through a couple things,” Steve admitted. He pulled his underwear all the way off and sat down next to Sam on the bed.

Sam placed a hand on Steve’s cheek and leaned in for another kiss. (A little better than the first one.) “First time with a man?” He murmured.

“First time with anyone, actually,” Steve answered, blushing a little.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve all got to start somewhere,” Sam reassured. “I’ve got an idea of how we can play this.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“Picture this. Once you get hard, you lay on your back and get comfortable, because I’m gonna sit on your cock and give you a show. If I control the tempo, there’s less pressure or 'am I doing this right?’ on you. And if I start going too fast for you, you tell me, ok? I know that a lot of people say the first time is always awkward, but it doesn’t have to be. I want to be sure this is good for you, too,” Sam explained.

“Is this show hands-off or am I allowed to touch?” Steve asked.

“Oh, you’re definitely allowed to touch. Encouraged to touch, even,” Sam grinned.

Steve stretched out, pillow under his head, and began to stroke his penis. Sam pulled a condom and a bottle of lube out of his nightstand and sat back to watch.

He hadn’t been looking at the clock, but Steve was starting to get the feeling that this was taking a little too long. He was still soft. Was this normal? First-time jitters? Or was this more of a personal problem? He knew that he hadn’t really had much of an urge to masturbate since… ever? He wasn’t sure anymore if he’d wanted to but abstained out of modesty or something, or if he’d never been interested at all. But he wanted this. Sam was attractive, that was obvious. It was clear that Sam also thought the same of Steve. They’d clicked immediately. Dinner was great. Steve was a little nervous when Sam invited him to come in for ‘coffee’ but that was normal enough, he’d thought. What did it say about him that he could be naked in an attractive man’s bed, an attractive man who was quite ready to sit on his dick, and still not be able to get hard?

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong,” Steve said, giving a few more strokes before dropping his hand to his side and sitting up. “I mean, I want to do this, but it doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen. Unless you have any suggestions?”

“Hey, it happens,” Sam said reassuringly. “Try not to stress over it, worrying will just make it worse. It’s your first time, so it could be performance anxiety. Or maybe it’s a side effect from being frozen for so long?”

Steve looked disappointed. “I don’t want the night to end on this note. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“If you want to sure, but don’t feel obliged or like you’re ‘making up’ for anything,” Sam said.

“I want to do _something_ for you,” Steve insisted.

“There’s always a blowjob,” Sam said, putting the lube and condom away and pulling a different box of condoms out of his nightstand.

“Condoms for a blowjob?” Steve asked.

“Force of habit, I guess,” Sam shrugged. “It’s good practice; we don’t all have super-serum. (Do you know how common mouth-herpes is? _Entirely_ too common.) And I’m gonna hazard a guess and say that they didn’t have flavored condoms back in the 40′s.”

“Flavored?”

“Flavored. My favorite’s the strawberry ones. This box has three flavors: strawberry, cherry, and banana. I think they had to include banana just for the imagery, because it does not taste like any banana I’ve ever eaten.”

“I’ll do banana.”

“You actually _like_ artificial banana flavor?” Sam looked skeptical.

“It’s closer to the taste of the bananas I grew up with than the ones in the stores now.”

“Alright then, banana it is.”

Sam tore open the condom wrapper ( _banana_. Well, at least somebody wanted to use those) and rolled it on. He leaned back on his hands and spread his legs, one straight out, the other bent up at the knee as Steve lay on his side and attempted to curl himself around it. 

Steve knew the basic idea behind a blowjob. He may not have any real experience, but he wasn’t quite as innocent as people tended to think he was. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft of Sam’s penis and leaned in, licking around the glans. Steve had to admit, the flavored condom thing was a little disconcerting. Not bad, but it would take some getting used to. He ran his tongue across the bottom of the glans and slid his hand down so that he could take more of Sam’s dick into his mouth. He sucked slowly down the shaft, bobbing and making sure it was slicked up with his spit. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s good, you’re doing good,” Sam moaned encouragingly. 

Steve decided to test his limits and see how deep he could handle. And ended up triggering a brief coughing fit. Sam sat up and looked down at him. He put a hand lightly on Steve’s shoulder.

“Ok, so maybe you’ve been wanting to try that out for a while now, but you know you don’t owe me anything, right? I get it, sex is great, but please don’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Steve nodded up at Sam. Sam leaned back again and closed his eyes as Steve took his penis back into his mouth. Easy does it. Down the shaft, not as far as before, then back up again. Hand on shaft, mouth on glans, Steve brought Sam over the edge with a shudder and Steve’s name on his lips.

Steve sat on the bed, absentmindedly licking his lips. There was still a little residual banana flavor hanging on. Sam took care of the condom and asked if he was sure he didn’t want him to try…? Steve shook his head no and yawned.

“Ready to go to bed already?” Sam asked.

“I don’t exactly have the most normal sleeping habits as it is, and aside from a couple quick catnaps, I’ve been awake since about five am yesterday,” Steve admitted.

“Ok, yeah, I think you deserve a good rest,” Sam said. “I’ve got a couple unopened toothbrushes, take your pick. And do you want me to find you some pajamas or are you just gonna sleep in the buff?”

“What would you prefer?” Steve asked with a grin.

“Surprise me.”

\--------------------------

Steve woke up to the smell of toasting bread. He wasn’t sure when Sam had gotten up to make breakfast; he had slept like a rock. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 7:28 am. Sam had skipped his run to let Steve sleep in a bit longer. Breakfast and a lay-in. Even after last night. Well, Sam had kept telling him it wasn’t a problem, so maybe it wasn’t this time, but what if it kept happening? He liked Sam a lot, but clearly that didn’t seem to mean he’d be able to seal the deal. Maybe they could just stay friends and keep things out of the bedroom? He didn’t want to saddle Sam with a problem like this. Stay friends and let him find someone who could actually give him what he wanted in bed, not just ‘I’ll settle for a blowjob.’ (Ok, so he hadn’t actually said he was ‘settling,’ but it wasn’t his first choice.)

A coffee maker added its whir to the sounds of the morning. Steve rolled over. He should probably consider getting up now, but the morning was still a little chilly (his fault for not taking Sam up on the pajamas offer, though, and instead just sleeping in his underwear). It would be less chilly if he got out of bed and put his clothes on, though. Steve only grumbled a little as he climbed out from under the covers and got his clothes off of the dresser where he had put them last night. He dressed, made the bed, and poked his head into the kitchen.

Sam was at the counter, spreading jelly onto his toast.

“’Morning. Sleeping Beauty finally decided to get up?” Sam teased.

“I just wanted to say thanks for dinner last night and, well, putting up with me afterwards,” Steve said, glancing down at his feet.

“‘Putting up with’ you? Don’t sell yourself short, Steve. Last night was good. Believe me, it was good. Now, breakfast. What do you like on your toast? Butter? Jelly? Peanut butter? _Dry_?” Sam asked.

Steve made a noncommittal noise.

“Don’t want toast? I’ve got eggs and bacon, they’ll cook up quick enough if that’s more your speed,” Sam added.

“Actually, I should probably get going,” Steve said, a little reluctantly. He didn’t really want to go, but he didn’t think he ought to stay, either.

“So you’ll eat my cock but not my cooking?”

Steve blushed. “No, no, it’s not that. Nothing against you or your cocking– _cooking_ , I mean– it’s, uh…”

“Sorry, bad joke. Didn’t mean it that way. Do you have somewhere you’ve got to be, or could you at least have that coffee I offered you last night?”

Steve nodded and sat down at the kitchen table. Sam brought over two mugs of coffee.

“Cream or sugar?” Sam asked.

“Thanks, but no. I grew up on black coffee, never developed a taste for it any other way,” Steve said, accepting his mug. Sam sat down across the table from him.

“So why are you trying to skip out without breakfast? You stay the night, you stay for breakfast.” 

“Because of last night.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, last night was not a problem. It happens. You were probably just tired. But it might start to _become_ a problem if you keep harping on it. If you need some time, tell me. But not too much time, I mean, I’ve gotta know if you’re planning on trying to make this work or if I should think about moving on. I like you. I want this, but it can’t be one-sided.”

Steve sipped his coffee. “Ok. I understand. I think I would like to take some time to think about things. If I don’t get back to you within three days and there’s not some work crisis distracting me, call me and tell me you’re moving on. If I can’t figure things out by then, you’ll be better off finding someone a little more stable than me.”

“Look. Steve. I don’t _want_ to have to move on from you. We clicked immediately, and I know you felt it too. I want this to work. If it can’t, it can’t. But if it can’t, then I want that to happen only after we’ve both made a concerted effort to try to make it work. I managed to maintain a relationship in an active combat zone, and if the Smithsonian exhibit can be trusted, you managed to make things work with Agent Carter during your war. This shouldn’t fall apart just because you couldn’t get it up once.”

Steve looked down at his lap.

“Alright, I’ll get back to you soon,” Steve said, finishing his coffee and rinsing out the mug.

“Can I at least get a kiss before you go?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Of course you can. I’m a little messed up, but I’m not a barbarian,” Steve said, finally smiling again.

\----------

Sam watched Steve’s motorcycle receding down the road. He did seem to pick the ones with issues, didn’t he. He hoped Steve would call, hoped he’d be willing to try again, but realistically? Steve was probably gone. Sam closed the blinds on his door and went back to his breakfast. Maybe he’d mail Steve all the remaining banana-flavored condoms, let him figure out what to do with them. Yeah. That was a plan. Sam smiled at that thought.

\---------------------------

Two days later, no calls, no texts, no Steve on his morning run, and Sam was about ready to call it a loss on both the relationship and the ‘let’s stay friends’ side of things. (Sam did not have a ‘type.’ And ’white boy with issues’ wasn’t even a ‘type’ at all, thank you very much. Just a few bad choices, not even enough to call it a pattern.)

He’d just gotten the orange juice out of his fridge when someone knocked on his door. It wasn’t quite seven am, who’d be looking for him at this hour? He pulled up the blinds. It was Steve. And the redheaded woman with the Corvette and the dad-jokes from that first morning. They were both looking a little worse for wear. Sam slid the door open.

“Hey, man,” he said, cautiously.

“I’m sorry to do this. We need a place to lay low,” Steve said apologetically.

“Everyone we know is trying to kill us,” the redhead added matter-of-factly.

Sam scanned the area, checking to see if they’d been followed, and, seeing nothing out of order, ushered them in.

“Not _everyone_ ,” Sam said.


End file.
